Gypsy Spirit

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Me: “Hey, I just heard that there is a whole… Hmmmm. What is the word that I want… Not congregation… But?

Him: “Cult?”

Me: “No. Not cult! A group of people. Actually they are all psychics and they all live together on this piece of land not far from here.”

Him: “Gypsies?”

Me: “No! They live in homes but they are all psychic and they live in the same community.”

Him: “So a community of tract homes like ours full of psychics?”

Me: “No. No…. Well, Okay. I think they live in trailers on the same land together. Hmmm… maybe they are gypsies. I don’t know. I just heard about them.”

Him: “Where’d you hear about them?”

Me: “My hair dresser. She went and said it was really cool. It is a group of psychics and they all live together and help each other develop their powers and I want…”

Him interrupting me, in the most natural and nonchalant way: “To join them?”

Me: “What?! No! I just want to go get my palm read.”

Me: “Wait! You thought I wanted to join them?! You thought I was going to leave and go live with gypsies?!”

Him: “Yes. I thought that was what you were leading up to.”

Me: “And you were okay with that?! Why were you so calm about that?”

Him: “Because I knew you’d come back.”

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Have you ever been to a gypsy camp? Has your husband ever been okay with you running away and joining them?

*I am wearing an Anthropologie skirt from last year and a vintage vest. I could not find anything similar, but if I could afford it, I would buy this gypsy skirt and never look back. ; ) If only I could foresee if that happens…

Overheard In May 2014

May was a weird month. I kept getting bad news. And it seemed those around me were receiving bad news. And the bad news compiled into a quicksand hole of stress that I could feel myself struggling through as I tried to meander through each day.

Well, two nights ago, we had incredibly good news (about my son’s health). If you are wondering why I am sharing this in my overheard post, it is to explain the scream of jubilation you must have heard from your house.

Sorry about that. It was from my husband.

It went like this:

“Wheeeeeeewwwwww! Waaaaoooooooeeeeeewwwwww!”

This was repeated and fist pumped and jumped through the house. I told him I had never ever seen him so happy. It made the month of May close on a sweet note.

With that said, I spent much of the month at home with my son or in the doctor’s office, so I did not hear much. But what I did overhear, I will share with you:

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At The Cheesecake Factory we sat outside and to our left, was a beautiful German couple in their early twenties. They were hipster cool in an easy-not-on-purpose kind of way. They would have made the people actually trying for this look fall on their knees and rip at their hats.

They ordered a chocolate malt and a slice of cheesecake. For lunch. Or breakfast. It was eleven o’clock. Which again, was cool without trying to be cool.

I don’t think I have ever had a moment like that.

The waitress returned after a few minutes to inform them that the kitchen thought they might be out of malt. She told the couple that they might want to pick something else on the menu.

They both grinned at her and said, “This is okay. But we do not know this word, ‘malt.’ What is it? What does it mean?”

Well, the waitress was not expecting that answer. And she just kind of stood there trying to determine if she knew the answer. I don’t blame her. I am not sure what I would have said myself.

So she said, “It’s the stuff that makes a malt a malt.”

And they grinned wider.

And she hastily left, returning minutes later with cheesecake…and a chocolate malt!

“They found some malt in the kitchen,” she said.

She left the desserts on the table with obvious relief.

The couple only ate two bites of cheesecake and a few sips of the malt before they asked to take the food to go.

Then they cooly sauntered away. Both of their perfect hats faced towards a new adventure.

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I volunteered at my son’s school two weeks ago (for the first time all year. It is hard as they get older. They get bigger. I get lazier). The fifth grade was doing a colonial day reenactment. They got to pick five items to make that they would have made back in the colonial days. I was helping at the book binding booth.

It was actually quite comical to hear the different conversations around me. Here is one:

A tall fifth grade boy sweetly grabbed one of the pillows his friend had made, and rubbed it on his cheek. He put his head on the pillow that was so small it barely fit into his hand, and proclaimed in the most innocent voice, “Oh. They feel so good. I should have made this.”

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In the triage across from us (at the ER), there was a two year old who had ingested her grandparent’s prescription medicine. She screamed as they force-fed charcoal into her system. The mother sang Barney lyrics in an eerily high and enchanting voice, “I love you. You love me…” And then it randomly changed to, “Clean up. Clean up. Everybody do their share. Cle-”

The little girl left a few hours later: tired, confused, perfectly healthy. And the mother handled the whole thing with such gentle grace.

After they left, one nurse said to the other, “you have charcoal splattered all over your scrubs.”

The other nurse shrugged and said, “I don’t have another pair with me.”

To which the first nurse softly said, “Don’t worry. It really isn’t noticeable unless you are looking for it.”

And it was wrong. Oh, so wrong. But that mother’s last song began playing itself in my head.

“Cle-”

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In the hospital bed next to us at the emergency room, a fifteen year old boy had severed his big toe almost completely off. I did not ask how, but believe me, I was curious.

When he was being discharged (after they had performed the reattachment surgery), they gave him some interesting advice.

“Make sure you keep changing the diaper* on your toe. I know it is unusual, but the diapers will absorb the fluids that are draining.”

Who knew?

*I believe this is what I heard. But I could be wrong. I cannot find any information on diapers being used for wounds. So, maybe I was delirious with exhaustion or maybe it is a new thing. Please take it for what you will.

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I was at Trader Joe’s purchasing peonies and a few other staples, when I went down an aisle, and saw a mother pick up a jar of Trader Joe’s Clarified Butter and say to her daughter:

“Let me just clarify something for you. This. Is. Butter.”

I laughed. And I bought the clarified butter. I had forgotten I had wanted to try it. Making it is a pain.

How was your month of May? Did you overhear anything good?

If you missed April’s “Overheard In”, you can find it here.

Overheard in January 2014

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January is over. It is now time to post all of the conversations I have heard this month that are interesting. This month was also unique in that I saw quite a few facial expressions that could have spoken a thousand words. Such as this one:

The man behind me at Trader Joe’s. I honestly did not notice he only had two items. If I had, I would have let him go in front of me. Always.

But I did not notice until the cashier was halfway through ringing up my items. I apologized, twice, but only got a tight lipped smile. Then, and this is the best part, as I was loading up my car, I saw him jump onto a motorbike and slip onto his head a Star Wars X-Wing Fighter helmet. I guess I was making him late for fighting The Empire.

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I was at Trader Joe’s and I was listening to the cashier behind me exclaim over the food that was in the woman in her lane’s cart.

“Oh I love this!”

“This is so good.”

“I’m eating this for lunch. Today.”

“This brand is the best!”

Then she laughed and said sweetly to the woman whose food she had been admiring, “Your palate and my palate are friends.”

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My sister banged her elbow on a table. Her son (my sweet almost three years old nephew) came over to give it a kiss to make her feel better.

When she told him thank you and that he indeed had made her feel better, he replied, “It’s all part of the job, Mom.”

So cute.

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My husband and I were at Costco. We were browsing the books. You might not know this, but, um, we don’t have enough of them.

There was an elderly couple leafing through a hardcover book next to me.

The husband said to his wife, “Let’s check. Nope. No pictures. I all ready have this book on my Kindle. There’s no point in buying the paper copy if it ain’t got no pictures.”

I never thought of it that way before. I thought it was amusing. But now I wonder, has there really ever been such a thing? A paperback copy different from the Kindle version?

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This story was told to my husband this week. Thankfully he doesn’t make it a point to hang out in men’s restrooms. The story is so good. I just have to share it:

My husband’s coworker was in the restroom at a pizza parlor with his buddy. They had finished their business and were washing their hands.

My husband’s coworker started drying his hands with one of those new Dyson hand dryers.

He commented to his buddy, “I have got to get one of these for my house!”

Just then another man also finished his business.

He walked by them towards the door, without stopping to wash his hands.

So the coworker said to his buddy, “Or I guess I could just not wash my hands.” And you can probably imagine the tone and conjecture that was used there.

The man left, but came back one minute later. I guess it took him that long to figure it out. Let’s also take a moment to notice that they are still standing there admiring the hand dryer.

The man approached my husband’s coworker and said, “Do you have a problem with me not washing my hands?”

This is where we must also pause to visualize this actually happening in a men’s restroom. And this conversation actually taking place. And we must chuckle.

Okay. Moving on.

My husband’s coworker responded, “Well, actually, yes I do have a problem with it. You just went to the bathroom and then you touched that door on your way out. Then you touched that door again on your way back in. Now I am going to have to touch that door when I leave. It’s disgusting.”

The man said, “Well, what do you want to do about it? Take this outside?”

My husband’s coworker responded, “Sure. But you’ve got to wash your hands first.”

The man got flustered and left.

I will now never not wonder if a hand washing fight is breaking out in a men’s restroom whenever I walk by one.

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I watch the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I know. I know. I have cut all of the rest of them out. Although, I might watch the New York version. The drama and just extreme petty nonsense gets to be much too much. But I love the New York setting.

Anyway, this week, my husband took me to a nice relaxing romantic lunch. While we were sitting, an extremely loud woman decided to take it upon herself to recount the previous episode of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I heard all of this from five tables away.

This will probably only amuse you if you watch the show. I condensed the conversation quite a bit.

“Oh my gosh! Did you like see the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills last night?”

Without waiting for a reply. In fact, there was not another person who dared to speak at that eight party table during her entire monologue.

“It was like the best episode of my whole entire life.

There is like a whole new cast this season.

Taylor is gone. She like left with a lawyer. But, like Lisa is still on and she is like fighting with Brandy.

There is a new girl, Carlton. She’s like English, too. But like she is not classy like Lisa. All she says is, ‘Bloody Hell.’ Oh, and she is like totally a witch. I know, right.

So, her and Joyce, this other like new girl. She has like really long hair and anyway she like told Carlton she didn’t believe in witchcraft.

And then Carlton went off on her.

And Brandy like held up her hand and was like, ‘Oh my gosh. Carlton just cast a spell on Joyce.’

But then like Joyce told Carlton she just like wanted to live her life in peace. And she didn’t believe in like that stuff.

So Joyce went home. And they like cut to next week’s episode and Joyce’s husband got totally sick that night! And not like real sick. But like sick sick. And like she is totally going to confront Carlton about casting a spell on her.”

This is where she like totally paused for breath and I like totally started listening to my like husband.

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At a winery, I watched a mother who had brought her two year old to the winery (and yes, there were long moments of screaming throughout the tasting room) make her two year old stand outside the doors and wave good bye to the winery.

“Say good bye to the winery.”

“NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“We’re not leaving until you say, ‘good bye’ to the winery.”

“Grbe. Enery.” Big wave while holding a giant Mickey Mouse doll.

Don’t judge.

That’s how I say good bye to wineries, too.

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Did you overhear anything good this month? Are you ready for February?

Overheard In September

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I am continuing with my monthly feature, “Overheard in…” It is the tidbits of conversations I “happen” to overhear each month, written down in one place. I only publish the nice ones. If you missed last month’s, here it is. Let’s snoop into September:

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We were at Disneyland on The Pirates of the Caribbean ride. There was a row of four little girls behind us ranging in ages of what appeared to be 5-8. Besides pulling our hair, it was cute. If you are not familiar with the ride: As the ride nears the end, your boat travels under broken bits of wood. There is even a chair hanging. This is what I heard two of the little girls say behind me:

“Is that a chair up there?”

“Shhhh. Yes.”

“What’s a chair doing up there?”

“It’s how this place was built. With chairs.”

It was quiet for a moment as they stared at the broken creation above their heads.

This made all of the hair pulling worth it. I missed snapping a picture of “the” chair. However, I did get a picture of the broken pieces of wood overhead. It made me smile to myself imagining these little girls thinking of rickety rides made from broken chairs. And also, thankful that is not truly the case!

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I was at the nail salon and it was packed. Two older women were waiting to get their nails done together.

The owner was ready for them to go to the chairs and they walked over to me.

Then he seated the two sweet elderly women next to me and told them, “Here you go. Seats right next to each other. Now you can hold hands and sing the same song.”

Now, whenever I go out with my girlfriends, I secretly think of this phrase and laugh to myself.

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At a winery, two middle aged men were standing next to us trying to muddle through a conversation.

One turned to the other and said, “I love the decor in here.”

It was all wood. Stuffy. 1980s lodge feeling.

The other one said, “Me too…But…Wait is that a stuffed cat?”

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Our bug man (exterminator) came around the corner and stopped when he saw us. He paused sheepishly.

“Oh!” He exclaimed. “I hope you did not hear me cursing over there. I saw two alligator lizards on the side of your house. Those things are scary.”

This did not give me faith in my exterminator. My husband said, “Yes, but they eat the bugs.”

The exterminator responded, “They’ll eat ANYTHING!”

I went into the house chuckling. These are the times when growing up in the country pays off.

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We were at a wedding and two young men (in their twenties) were having an interesting conversation regarding the timing of the wedding:

“I can’t believe they are starting the wedding at 6:00,” one young man said.

“Why?” Asked the other young man.

“You should never get married on the hour, because the only direction for the marriage to go is down. A wedding should always start on the half hour, so the hand is moving upward.”

They pondered this for a moment.

“Well,” started the second young man, “I guess she could be late.”

Hmmm. I had never heard of this before. Have you? I honestly cannot remember what time my wedding started. I should have consulted the first gentleman prior to the day (of course, he would have been about ten years old, so who knows what help he would have been)!

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And one last small one. I was at the post office waiting in line to send back two returns and the music got very loud. Who even knew the post office had music? This is what was playing at our local post office:

“Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-Alot.

Yup.

There was a local police officer talking to a postal worker when the song came on.

The police officer looked at the postman and said, “Interesting choice of music you’re playing here.”

His comment was ignored. But not by me. I smiled…And tapped my foot to the beat.

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Have you heard any funny or nice conversations lately? I would love to “hear” them!